Spit your game, talk your shit, grab your gat, call your click
Spit your game, talk your shit, grab your gat, call your click
Squeeze your clip, hit the right one, pass the weed, I got to light one
Squeeze your clip, hit the right one, pass the weed, I got to light one
(Dedication 2! Drama!)

What your Mami told you ’bout fucking ’round with them soldiers?
Told you I’d be back, I’m coming, I got that Tommy Lasorda
That’s blood all over your sofas, blood all over your posters
Blood all over your shoulders, blood all over the strollers
Do that shit, I done that shit, it’s Weezy Baby, he’s a baby
But that nigga run that shit, make that money come back quick
Take that money from that bitch, she know what it be, M.O.B
Pistol right there in my reach, you know what it be, him or me
Bitches know when that limo leave, two words: “room key”
Where? Penthouse suite, wear not-a-damn-thing
I’m here, bada-bam-bing, my hand bling, my wrist bling
My neck bling, my ear bling, Super Bowl ring, bitch
Cash Money, Young Money, Super Bowl team, bitch
Money, money, money, money: I’m true to those things, bitch
You’re with those pussy hoes, I shoot at those queens, bitch
This is New Orleans, bitch, murder dope fiend shit

Spit your game, talk your shit, grab your gat, call your click
Spit your game, talk your shit, grab your gat, call your click
Squeeze your clip, hit the right one, pass the weed, I got to light one
Squeeze your clip, hit the right one, pass the weed, I got to light one
(Dedication 2! Drama!)

What your Papi told you ’bout fucking ’round with them soldiers?
I told you, I’m coming back, I got that Tommy Mottola
That’s blood all over your Rover, blood all over your chauffeur
Blood all over your loafers, if I get any closer
There’s blood all over my toaster, blood all over my holster
I’m in them S. Dots, that’s blood all over my Hovas, fuck
I’m hustling with a motive, my niggas need me
And that Tiger in my pocket say, “Feed me,” it’s greedy
See ’em niggas, jack ’em niggas, kill ’em niggas, whack ’em niggas
Ask ’em bitches, ask them niggas, Weezy baby, that’s the nigga
Catch me mashing in a V, matching seats, matching feet
Sheesh, that bitch too sweet for the streets
Got that keef for the leaf if he finna beef, no need to speak, let it be what it be
Niggas want peace, I make ’em leave here, piece by piece
Fuck me? Fuck you! What it is? What it do?
I been ready since ’81 and I was born in ’82
Hollygrove where I’m from, but we call that bitch the Zoo
I ain’t never trust a bitch since she ate that forbidden fruit
Sucker free, sucker proof, 50 shots, cut ’em loose
Quarterback Weezy, baby, shotgun, run and shoot
Coming through, young’n do what young’ns do, ball, baby
At home fornicating, homie by the phone waiting
Goddamn, I am, a man, the man
The motherfucking president, bitch!

Spit your game, talk your shit, grab your gat, call your click
Spit your game, talk your shit, grab your gat, call your click
Squeeze your clip, hit the right one, pass the weed, I got to light one
Squeeze your clip, hit the right one, pass the weed, I got to light one
(Dedication 2! Drama!)